A Dollhouse to Die For(121)

            Angus and I made a trip back to the truck and unloaded our stuff.

            “Fancy a hot dog?” Angus asked. “To hell with my diet.”

            Suddenly starving, I nodded. “I’ll take two.”

            We stopped at a stall and bought chili cheese dogs. Angus slathered on every condiment on the counter and I did the same.

            Just like the good old days.

            The food stalls were over near the sellers with merchandise like designer-style handbags, airbrushed T-shirts, and handmade woolen socks. Produce, garden accessories, Amish meats, and baked goods were also on display.

            “This is the newer stuff.” Angus wiped his mouth with a napkin. “We need to head back in the other direction.”

            I followed him to a table near the factory building that was filled with license plates, vintage cameras, lodge pins, motorcycle kidney belts, a train set, and even a brass spittoon.

            The vendor had a display of sterling silver forks with all the tines bent down except for one. If the tines were fingers, the one sticking up would be the middle finger. They were advertised as pickle or olive forks.

            “I have to get one of these for Eleanor,” I told Angus.

            After I paid, I wandered over to where he was sorting through a stack of automotive and oil promotional signs propped up against the brick wall. These old signs were like catnip for Angus. He pulled out a dented red and black metal one.

            “Oh, yeah, I remember this,” he said. “This shop used to be where Jake’s Hardware is now. Fred Smalls. Ardine’s father. He was the only electrician in town for years.”

            I peeked over his shoulder. The sign said SMALLS ELECTRICAL.

            “Angus!” I gasped. “How come you never mentioned this before?”

            “What?” He craned his head to look up at me from his kneeling position.

            “The dollhouse that killed Harriet Kunes. My God, don’t you remember? Someone messed with the wiring!”

            Angus eased himself slowly to his feet and scratched his thick shock of white hair. “I know what you’re thinking, Daisy Duke, but you’re dead wrong.”

            I blew out a breath, trying to control my exasperation. I had to remind myself that not everyone was trying to do the police department’s job, like me. “But don’t you think it might be just a tad relevant?”

            “I dunno. There’s lots of electricians round these parts, let alone their kids. They can’t all be murderers.”

            Yes, but it only takes one.





Chapter Twenty-one





When Angus dropped me off at home, I hurried toward the sunroom at the back of the house where I had a corner workstation and laptop setup. I stopped for a moment to admire the kitchen, where Wayne had obviously finished the final touch-ups this morning.

            Apart from his invoice on the counter neatly marked “Paid,” it was hard to tell that anything had ever been torn apart. It was perfect, and a welcome relief to have my kitchen back. There was also a note from Joe that he’d taken Jasper out for a walk.

            I smiled, shaking my head in exasperation. Joe could never quite get used to the idea of leaving a message on my cell phone. How he expected me to read this note unless I’d happened to stop home, I don’t know.

            I set my flea market purchases down, pulled up “Kunes Medical Associates” on the computer and skimmed Birch’s bio. He’d done his residency at Hahnemann University Hospital, and then after his fellowship, he’d gone into practice with nine other doctors in Langhorne before he’d opened his own office. I typed the name of the practice into the search menu, wrote down the address on a scrap of paper, and shoved it in my pocket.